Violet Court
by Steampunkmagic
Summary: Clara Oswald is your typical girl until one day she finds herself in the land of Shades. When Clara is mistaken for the missing Violet Princess, Oswin, how will she find her way home? But when she starts to fall for the Gray Knight, John Smith, will she even want to? -Updates every Wednesday-
1. Jump

Greetings Lovely Readers!

The idea for this story has sorta taken over my brain and if I didn't start writing it I was going to go crazy. This is a bigger AU then I've ever done before so it will be interesting to see what people think about it. And believe me its going to be very AU. Magic, Princesses, prophecies the whole deal!

Well anyway... On with the insanity! I always love reviews!

Enjoy :D

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**~Jump~**

Looking down at the murky water Clara tries to remember what brought her to this truly idiotic moment.

Clara lives in a small village smack-dab on the cross roads of the middle-of-nowhere and you'll-never-see-civilization-again. It isn't like they live in the Stone Age or anything. But the internet is slow and since most of the town's residences are over 60 they elect not to bother with it at all.

Computers are Clara's _thing_. She can do anything on one, legal or no. By the time she was twelve Clara was the town's unofficial Geek Squad. If anyone has a technology problem they come to her.

Maybe that's one of the reasons she never really fit in. Not that she doesn't love her town, because she does. It's quaint and peaceful. And no one ever has to lock their doors. It's the perfect place to grow up. It's also a bit boring if Clara is being honest.

She wants to see London and New York and 101 other places. She wants to go dancing in Rome, hiking in Nepal. Have a scandalous affair with a Persian art student. Ok, maybe not that last one but still. Clara wants more than quaint and peaceful.

Her friends Nina and Sam are more than willing to help her out with this. Crazy shit tends to happen whenever they are together. They've been wreaking havoc and causing chaos since they were six. Clara would swear they never directly intend to create chaos. Well except that time they rewired the village's annual New Year's fireworks display. Though they really didn't mean to set the Johnson's barn on fire.

Today is just the icing on the cake of stupid stunts.

Clara is currently standing outside the railing of Broken Bridge holding on for dear life. The harsh October wind slaps her face and whips her dark hair. She stares down at the muddy water below imagining just how cold it will be.

This is all because of Sam and his bet. Two weeks' worth of tips from the dinner they both work at against her daring to jump. Clara really hates the idea but she couldn't back down now. He and Nina will never let her hear the end of it if she refuses the bet.

It isn't that the bridge iss even all that high; it's the fact that _no one_ jumps Broken Bridge. Clara can't remember a single person in the entire history of their puny little town who even swam in the river. People just avoid it. Birds fly around it, animals steer clear of it. And here Clara is about to leap right in.

The bridge is old and built of weather beaten, moss covered boards. It looks much like any other old walking bridge. There is nothing about it which screams 'stay away' or 'woe to all depraved souls' or anything. It's just an ordinary bridge over an ordinary creek. None of that helps relive Clara's goose bumps or her pounding heart. The place doesn't look wrong but it feels wrong.

"Are you wimping out?" Nina calls from the relative safety of the wooden planks.

Clara turns to glare at her working to keep her balance on the thin ledge. "Shut up and get out your wallet!"

Taking one last deep breath she throws herself off the side.

With a scream of exhilaration Clara plunges downwards, cold air rushing past her face. The fall is so fast it hardly registers. One second she's in the air, the next she's breaking the surface. The icy water is like a knife in her chest, freezing the blood in her veins. The shock stops Clara's limbs and disorients her completely.

For a moment she hangs frozen in the water, her hair bellowing out around her in a halo. The slow current pulls at her clothes. She can't think. Her body won't move. Clara's lungs begin to burn, desperate for air.

Suddenly her brain snaps back into action as she starts to kick towards the surface. Only Clara doesn't know where the surface is anymore. Black in every direction, nothing but solid black. Clara begins to panic. She needs to breathe. Why can't she see anything? The creek isn't this deep.

Everything is growing fuzzy. Oxygen deprivation is setting in. Clara sinks slowly into the abyss. She forgets to struggle. She forgets to hold her breath. What an idiotic way to die.

Clara sinks deeper and deeper oblivious to the passage of time. Universes are born and die; the world turns, or does the clock mark only seconds?

It is all the same here.

Steadily the black begins to dissipate. Violet tented light opens up below Clara's body. The darkness of the water slowly fades in its wake. It's as if the sun is shining through the water below her. How's that possible? Is she drifting down or floating up?

Clara slips into the shadows of her own mind without an answer.


	2. Somewhere Else

Afternoon fabulous readers!

Sorry I'm late on my update I've got carpal tunnel so writing is kinda hard right now :/ Anyway I will continue to try to update this once a week in the future.

I'd love to hear what people think about this crazy story!

Enjoy :D

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**~Somewhere Else~**

Gray sand clings to Clara's skin. She can feel the gritty texture covering her body. It's warm here while a cool breeze tickles her skin. Somewhere nearby is running water. Clara can hear its soft burbling noises as it flows over rocks and stones. She lays there in the sand waiting for some other new sensation. Her mind is too muddled for anything else.

After awhile Clara finally decides she should open her eyes. That seems like a good safe plan. It's an action which takes a lot more effort than it should have. Her body is drained of energy. She feels like she ran for miles only to collapse here, wherever here is exactly. She's stalling. Slowly Clara blinks open her eyes and immediately has to close them again. The purple light of the sun is blinding.

Wait, _purple light_?

Shielding her eyes with a hand Clara sits up. The sand shakes loose from her skin and clothing, falling off in sheets. She inspects the salt and rock crystals still clinging to her hands. Why would there be sand here? Clara can't remember there being sand before. Though she's having a hard time focusing on anything in the 'before' category. Also wasn't sand more of a yellowish color? This is all a light dove gray.

Clara squints up towards the sun waiting for her eyes to adjust. Once they do Clara has a hard time processing what she's seeing. The sun is at its zenith glowing high above her. She can feel it's warmth on her upturned face. It looks almost the same as usual except its traditional orange coloring is tinged with purple. The shade of the sweet lilacs which grow in Clara's front garden. This strange phenomenon makes the very air appear dusted with lilac, like she's looking at the world through Victorian glasses.

Clara is quickly coming to the realization that something is seriously wrong. Nothing about this place seems familiar. All the shades and colors are either muted or wrong. She isn't sure if it is wholly because of the violet sun or if everything is simply a different color than it should be. There is no vibrancy here. Part of Clara knows this should probably worry her, but she feels too numb for much of any emotion at all.

_Maybe I'm in shock_, Clara thinks rationally, that makes sense. _When bizarre shit happens people go into shock._

Of course, Clara can't remember what happened to make her go into shock in the first place. She glances around trying to catalog her surroundings. She's sitting on a small sand bank beside a river. The water flows lazily, lapping against the shore. It's so clear she can see the rocks and stones which line the bottom. It's like looking through glass. Tiny, dark fish dart about in the current oblivious to her presence.

Clara's gaze follows a trail of drag marks from the edge of the water through the sand to where she is sitting. It seems like she dragged herself out of the river and passed out here. She must have been lying on the bank for a long time because she isn't wet. Even her clothes are dry. Stiff and coated in more sand than she will probably ever be able to get out, but dry.

The river sparks something in her memory, this all has to do with water.

The river is surrounded by forest. Tall, dense pines spread out as far as Clara can see. Their needles are so dark they appear black. The more she stares at them, the more Clara is certain the needles actually are black. Jet black. It's as if this forest is formed by the shadows of another. And these trees are merely the darkness cast by the real thing. She finds the idea deeply unnerving.

Clara averts her eyes from the dark pines. Her attention is grabbed by a flash of light. A few hundred yards up the river is a bridge. It has to be one of the most beautiful things she has ever seen. The light of the sun catches on the jewel incrusted white metal it's formed from. The cast iron twists and spirals creating an intricate railing and archway which covers the expanse. Sparkling stones are inset throughout the design. They sent reflections scattering across the river below. It's extravagant and seems highly out of place in the middle of a forest. A rickety old wooden bridge would make more sense.

A wooden bridge! Everything comes rushing back to Clara. Sam and Nina dared her to jump from Broken Bridge. She remembers hitting the icy waters but not resurfacing. Instead she kept sinking and sinking. Then nothing else. Clara must have blacked out.

"Oh shit, I'm dead!" she cries in disbelief. "I drowned!"

But then where the hell is she? This lonely expanse doesn't really seem like Heaven and there are no eternal flames so it probably isn't Hell. Not that Clara believes in an afterlife. Though she's clearly _somewhere_. She remembers that the Underworld in Greek mythology involved rivers. Since Clara still knows who she is and isn't chard to a crisp this river probably isn't Lethe or Phlegethon. Maybe it's Styx?

No matter what river this is just sitting here won't help her any. Swallowing down her rising panic Clara drags herself to her feet. She dusts off her clothing. Everything feels solid and real. What if she isn't dead after all? Either way she's stuck here.

Heading towards the bridge seems like the best option, since who would build a bridge unless there's a path leading to it? And hopefully that path leads to civilization of some kind. She starts off in that direction. The closer she get to the bridge the more detail she can make out of the design of the twisted metal.

The complex patterns are more than just geometrically interesting, they actually form tiny scenes. Deer, wolves, and birds weave in and out of depictions of hunters and royals. They look like they tell a story or perhaps a series of myths, none of which Clara recognize. That bothers her a bit but at least the designs indicate that there are other people here.

The bridge does indeed connect to a wide dirt path which disappears into the forest in both directions. There are deep ruts cut into it. Wagons or carts often traveled this way. There are also many trampled footsteps. A large sign hangs across the entrance to the bridge reading, Royal Road.

After a moments deliberation Clara chooses the side of the road she's already on. She isn't a fan of heading into the creepy forest but obviously by the wear on the path people do this all the time. It can't be too terrible.

The sun all but disappears the moment she passes under the canopy of the pine trees. It goes from noon to dusk instantly. The silence is absolute. All she can hear iss the rustle of the breeze in the branches and the soft, distant call of birds. Clara shivers and hunches her shoulders. At first she worries that she won't be able to see where she's going. Then little lights appear along the path. They are placed every few yards keeping an even white glow on the ground.

Clara kneels down to examine one. Up close it looks like a small white flame dancing just above the soil. She doesn't see any electrical wiring or any other means of power. It really looks like a tiny bit of fire just floating there. Clara reaches out cautiously to touch it expecting to feel heat; instead the flame is cool and doesn't burn her skin. It's like dipping her finger into water. The hairs on the back of her neck raise. What is this, the Land of Oz?

Clara continues on the path for a long time. She's actually starting to calm down. Nothing's happened and she hasn't come across anyone else. At some point she comes to the conclusion that she isn't dead or dreaming. This seems rather pointless for death and way too realistic for dreaming. It left only one option. Clara is somewhere _else_.

Where exactly that somewhere else happens to be is what freaks her out. She's read books and seen movies where this kind of thing happens. But that's fantasy, this is reality. Clara wonders if Sam and Nina are still waiting for her at Broken Bridge or has enough time passed there that they assume she drowned. What will they tell her parents? Will anyone ever know what happened to her?

Clara wills herself not to start crying.

_Crack!_

A twig snaps in the forest to her left. Clara freezes, holding her breath. She peers out straining to see into the gloom. Something moves between the trees. She lets out a small squeak of fear before clamping her hand over her mouth. More things move in the darkness. Large, lithe shapes. Prowling shapes. They are all around her, circling the path. Her heart is beating in her throat. Clara stands quivering like a frightened rabbit.

Glowing red eyes turn on her. Seven sets of cold, hungry eyes watch her from the darkness. Clara can make out the shapes now. They are wolves. Wolves the size of horses. They move like smoke through the trees. Their dark, shaggy hides are translucent. Yet their fiery eyes and gnashing teeth seem all too real. The spectral wolves are unlike anything Clara has seen before.

A low growl tears through the silence. She can sense the predatory hunger behind that sound. And some primal part of her knows she's on the menu. One of the wolves growls again, a low rumble which vibrates though the trees. It takes a step forward, stalking its prey.

Clara bolts. She runs knowing there's no escaping the spectral giants. They will overtake her in seconds. She screams, running blindly, imagining hot breath at the back of her neck. She can hear them, feel them behind her. Clara runs faster than she's ever run before. Her chest is burning and she can't catch a breath. She keeps going.

Her foot catches on a root sending Clara sprawling onto the loamy earth. Her heart is in her throat. This is it. She squeezes her eyes tight not wanting to see the wolves before they attack. They are growling and snarling. They are right next to her.

Suddenly Clara hears a twanging noise and one of the beast lets out a great howl of pain. Looking up in surprise she sees a flaming arrow sticking out of the chest of the nearest wolf. Another fiery arrow flies past striking a second wolf. The pack howls and whines in fear and anger. A third arrow sends the pack running. The ground shakes with their paws as they disappear into the forest.

Heavy footfalls come down the path. Sore and bruised, but otherwise unharmed Clara sits up. She hopes her rescuer is better than the wolves. She's leery of anything in this place. After a moment a man comes into view. He's tall and handsome, she can tell even in the dim light. His dark hair is short and sticks up, and his blue eyes sparkle. He wears a long, dark coat with brass buttons which makes him appear even taller than he is.

The man watches Clara with a mixture of amusement and surprise. He must not come across strange girls in the forest too often. A bright, slightly alluring smile spreads across his handsome features. Clara's heart stutters against her will.

"Well, hello there." the man grins. "What's a pretty young thing like you doing out here all by yourself?"

Clara doesn't answer. She isn't sure about this situation. He doesn't seem very threatening, at least not towards her. Though, he does have a bow over one shoulder and what looks like a sword at his belt. An armed stranger flirting with her in the middle of a dark forest is more than a bit unnerving.

He guesses what Clara's thinking. "It's ok, I'm not going to hurt you. My name's Jack, Jack Harkness. What's yours?" He holds out a hand to help her to her feet.

"Clara Oswald."

Jack waits until she's dusted herself off before speaking again. "So what _are_ you doing in the middle of the Lost Woods by yourself?"

"You're here by yourself." she points out.

He laughs, "I work here, I'm a Huntsman."

"A Huntsman?"

"Yes, I track down the Nightmares." Jack says.

Clara nods as if that sentence makes any sense to her at all. "So where are we exactly?"

Jack frowns, "The Lost Woods."

"Umm…and where are the Lost Woods, like what country?"

His frown deepens. "The Lost Woods is unclaimed that's why it's lost. How did you get here?"

Clara hesitates knowing how weird this is going to sound, though maybe people just magically appear by the river all the time here. "I don't know. I was in England and then I was here. I woke up near the bridge on the river."

Jack's eyes widen. "I don't know where this England place is, but this is Shades. Wow, this is a new one even for me. You best come with me, since I can't leave you out here to get eaten. Besides Alonso's making stew and you look like you could do with something to eat."

Clara nods and allows Jack to lead her out of the forest.


	3. The Huntsmen

Greetings My Lovelies!

Late again. It seems the universe is out to get this story. First carpel tunnel now my neighbor's car bursting into flames and threatening to burn down the block (no seriously that happened yesterday) 0_O Wonder what weirdness will happen next week...

Anyway on with the show!

I always love reviews

Enjoy :D

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**~The Huntsmen~**

Jack obviously knows the forest well. He confidently strides down the path keeping up a steady stream of conversation. He's lively and personable and before long he starts telling Clara stories of his more outlandish adventures as a Huntsman. There is no way most of them actually happened. Saving scantily clad women from three headed beasts seems highly unlikely, but that doesn't stop Clara from laughing so hard it hurts.

"That's seriously what you do for a living? You hunt monsters?"

"I hunt Nightmares." Jack corrects.

"Like those wolf things?"

"The Nightmares live in the outer reaches only coming out to feed. They're the children of Darkness itself whose only purpose is to destroy. The Crown pays idiots like me to keep them in check and stop them from eating the traders who use the Royal Road."

Clara can't quite wrap her mind around the idea. She's out of her depth here. A place where monsters, or Nightmares - or whatever they were called - are real. Lost in her own thoughts it's awhile before she realizes Jack is still talking to her.

"Dinner should be nearly ready by the time we get back. Alonso's always making too much so you don't need to worry about that. Plus I think he'll just be happy to talk to someone new for a change."

The way Jack says Alonso's name makes it pretty obvious he's his husband or at least boyfriend. You can see it all over his face. She's seen that look on more than one newlywed back home. Jack maybe a natural flirt but he is clearly taken. Clara finds herself really looking forward to meeting this Alonso character trying to imagine what kind of man could tame someone like Jack.

She doesn't have to wait long. Less than ten minutes later the trees begin to thin. There is light ahead. The false dusk of the forest canopy gives way to the actual dusk of the darkening sky. Clara squints trying to see the end of the path.

A tiny cluster of log cabins are nestled together at the edge of the forest. The grouping is too small to be considered a village with only five houses. Cheerful lights flicker in the windows fighting off the darkness of the impeding night. The newly awakened stars fill the sky overhead in numbers Clara has never seen before. Thousands of diamonds which shine down upon the little cabins.

Jack leads her to one of the middle cabins. There are a few half welted flower pots on the front porch and a stone wind chime, but other than that it's pretty sparse. As one would expect from a house run by two men. Whatever the décor is lacking is made up for by the smell coming from inside. The scent of a home cooked meal is almost overpowering.

They're about to step inside when a voice calls from the next cabin, "Jack! Who do ya got there?"

Clara realizes what she'd originally thought was a pile of fabric sitting on the steps of the house next door is actually a woman. She's wearing a ridiculous amount of mismatched layers of clothing. When she stands up and steps into the light of the porch lantern Clara is surprised to see that the woman is blind.

Her eyes are snow white and glazed over. Deep scaring cut through the delicate features of her face leaving long angry welts. Despite this she is still pretty in a simple way and her expression is kind. The girl can't be much older than Clara herself.

"Evening Ada!" Jack calls with a smile in his voice, "Made a new friend. Clara Oswald this is Ada Gillyflower one of the best trackers in Shades."

"Hello." Clara says uncertainly.

"Another woman! Thank goodness. It's just me, mother, and a bunch of bloody men out here. You can imagine how much fun that is."

Clara laughs deciding she liked Ada. Jack meanwhile grimaces in mock annoyance.

"Oh I see how it is." he grumbles before walking into his house.

"See you at dinner." Ada calls after them with a chuckle.

The inside of the cabin is just as sparse as the outside. Nothing but the essentials - couch, chairs, fireplace. There is however a large assortment of weapons hanging on one wall. Swords, knifes, daggers, and a lot of things Clara has no name for. Those weapons and the shelf of jars below them look like they might belong better in the shop of Voodoo priest. Clara doesn't think she wants to know what the bright powders in the jars are for.

"Jack, honey, is that you?"

A timid looking young man sticks his head around the door leading to the kitchen. He's boyish with dark hair and large ears. His eyes widen when he sees Clara in her jeans and graphic-tee. Seeing as Alonso's also wearing clothes which appear handmade from rough linens, Clara figures her _Little Mermaid_ shirt probably looks really alien.

"Oh. Umm… Hi." Alonso glances at Jack for explanation.

His eyes glitter with amusement, "I picked up another stray."

Alonso stares at him for a minute then rolls his eyes and turns back to her, "He's always doing stuff like this. No matter, you're just in time. I'm Alonso incase my thoughtless husband failed to mention that."

She smiles shyly, "He did. I'm Clara, by the way."

He gives her a searching look. "Have we met before?"

"No, I don't see how we could have."

Clara and Jack relate the bizarre story of how they met. Alonso's eyebrows nearly disappear into his hairline before the end of it. His expression shifts from curiosity to wonder. Though they're both being extremely nice to her, Clara is starting to feel like a circus sideshow.

"Wow."

"That's what I said."

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Dinner is a communal event. Behind the cluster of houses is a small clearing ringed with oak trees. The oak trees have the same black leaves as the pine needles and their bark is gray. Set among the tall branches are more of the little white fire lights from the path in the forest. They make the whole place sparkle and glow like icicle lights on Christmas. In the center of the clearing is a long ancient table. The wood is aged and scared from the thousands of meals it has hosted in its time.

People from the other houses are laying out food when they come out with Alonso's stew. Ada and an old woman, who must be the aforementioned mother, are already there. The rest are all men, many of whom give Clara very appreciative stares. She get the feeling they don't see too many women this far out.

Jack introduces her and once again relates her story. That gets everyone talking as they dig into their meal. Clara can hardly eat because she's so busy answering questions about where she comes from. Some of the men just shake their heads in disbelief when she describes things like cars and electricity. Though to be fair if someone showed up in her town talking about ghost-monsters and magic she'd be equally skeptical.

The old woman, Mrs. Gillyflower, says nothing only watching Clara with an intense expression. It feels like the woman is trying to read her mind. And it isn't until Clara startes asking questions about Shades that she speaks up.

"You know I never forget a face, deary." she says in a falsely sweet voice.

Clara doesn't know what Mrs. Gillyflower is talking about. Neither apparently does anyone else.

"What do you mean, mama?" asks Ada. She sounds a little leery.

"Oh just that I recognize our new friend here." says Gillyflower, "No one else finds her familiar looking?"

Alonso frowns.

"What are you-?" Clara begins.

"There's no reason to keep pretending, Princess. I know who you are."

Silence greets Gillyflower's words. The men glance between the old woman and Clara uncertainly. Slowly dawning recognition lights in a few of their eyes. Clara isn't sure what's happing, but she doesn't like it.

"She's the spitting image." mutters a man at the end of the table.

"Princess Oswin." breathes another.

Everyone starts arguing at once. Jack has to shout and bang his cup on the old table to get them to shut up.

"Enough!" he cries. "Stop acting like a bunch of old biddies!"

Mrs. Gillyflower huffs in annoyance. Jack ignores her.

"Who is Princess Oswin?" Clara demands.

His brow furrows, inspecting her face closely. "Heir to the throne of the Violet Kingdom. She disappeared. Vanished right out of the palace. No one's been able to find her or someone to blame. Of course some think the Gray Kingdom had something to do with it. They've been on the brink of war ever since."

"And you think I'm her?"

Jack hesitates. The rest of the group watches him expectantly. It seems he's the one in charge among the Huntsman and whatever he says goes.

"I can't deny you look like her, I mean its _uncanny_. But I believe you." Jack glances around the table as though challenging anyone to say otherwise. "If she says she's not Oswin, she's not Oswin. End of discussion. And now we're going to help her get back to her own world."

Mrs. Gillyflower glares at him than get to her feet and marches off. No one stops her. Apparently Ada doesn't get her friendly disposition from her mother.

"We don't even know how she got here in the first place," Ada points out, "How are we supposed to send her back?"

Jack deflates a bit.

"We'll think of something." Alonso assures.

Clara is glad they chose to believe her even if there's no logical reason to. The situation is fucked up on every level. She does wonder about the missing Princess and if she really looks that much like her. Or have the Hunters been out here on the edge of no-wheres-ville so long they're just jumping to conclusions.

Afterwards, dinner is cleaned up with an efficiency that spoke of routine. Clara helps, thankful for the mindlessness of washing dishes. It helps her avoid thinking. Jack and Alonso put her up in their spare room. It's nothing more than a rickety bed with an old patched up quilt, but Clara can't thank them enough.

"Don't worry." Jack says, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder.

Clara's throat is tight and she can't respond. Blinking back suppressed tears she nods. They understand and leave her alone to get some rest. Changing into the long nightdress Ada lent her, Clara slips under the covers.

Lying there waiting for sleep she can't hold back her tears any longer. Clara sobs silently into her pillow until exhaustion win out and she falls into a fitful slumber.

It is just before dawn when Clara wakes to the front door being kicked in.


	4. The Violet City

**~The Violet City~**

The crash of the door bouncing off the wall shakes the entire cabin. Clara sits bolt upright, for a moment she can't remember where she is. Then she hears Jack shouting. She jumps out of the small bed glancing around for some sort of weapon. There's a stick that looks like it's used for propping open the window. Clara snatches it up and holds it aloft like a club. It probably won't weld any damage, but it's better than nothing. Especially since she has no idea what's going on.

Large thumping boots rattle up the staircase to the tiny landing beyond her door. Many pairs of large boots by the sound of it.

"Where is she?" demands a gruff voice.

Clara's heart skips a beat. These people are looking for her? She glances back at the tiny window beside the bed. If she jumped she would probably be fine and she could be in the woods before anyone realizes she's gone.

"Get out of my house!" Jack shouts.

Alonso cries out as there's the sound of a body hitting the wall. Clara makes up her mind. There's no way she's going to stand here and do nothing. Flinging herself through the door, Clara swings the stick around preparing to whack anyone who comes towards her. Despite her fierce expression, a young woman in a night dress isn't very threatening.

A troupe of armed men and women in matching uniforms crowd the stairs. They ware chain mail covered by purple tunics embroidered with a silver crest of swan. Each has a long sword belted at their waists. The man in front has Jack by the throat. He's large and muscular with a deeply lined face and gold hair. Alonso's on the ground with a cut above his right eye. Jack is putting up one hell of a fight for a man in nothing but a pair of cotton trousers. He's landing punches left and right. Nevertheless he doesn't stand a chance against so many armed soldiers.

"Let him go!" Clara yells trying to sound braver than she actually feels at that moment. At least her voice isn't shaking. She's afraid but she refuses to let them see it.

The man fighting Jack freezes when he sees her. His eyes go wide before he hits Jack one last time then jumps to attention. The rest of the company, who wear equal expressions of shock, follow suit.

"Princess, I'm glad to see you are unharmed." says the leader as if he wasn't just beating on her new friend. "We've subdued your kidnappers, they will be dealt with. You're safe now."

Clara stands there holding her stupid stick trying to process what's happening. She waits tables and fixes computers for a living for god's sake! She isn't cut out for this medieval bullshit. One detail she latches onto, "They didn't kidnap me. I just met them."

"Yeah so get the fuck off me!" Jack spits.

Wrenching himself free of the captain's grasp, he immediately kneels down to check on his husband. Alonso is only shaken and Jack helps him to his feet. The captain looks disappointed as though he wants nothing more than to execute the lot of them. He smoothes his expression before glancing back at Clara.

"I'm not who you think I am." she says quickly, backing away from him.

She isn't an idiot, Clara knows better than to let him get a hold of her. This man is a bully, plain and simple. All her panicked brain can think is, _I just_ _want to go home. I just want to go home._

"Princess Oswin, my men and I have travelled far looking for you. It would be best for all of us if you let us return you to the palace quietly. "

Clara doesn't miss the undercurrent threat. He will drag her back quietly or not. She has to make him understand.

"I'm not Oswin! My name is Clara!" She waves the stick in front of her threateningly. "Just stay the hell away from me!"

The captain laughs. It's harsh and demeaning, making Clara feel like a child in the presence of a giant. It pisses her off. Her whole life people make her feel like an outcast. At school, at work. Just because Clara isn't like everyone else in their village. So when the captain takes a step towards her she hits him square in the face with the butt end of the stick. There's a sickening crunch as his noise brakes.

"I said stay the fuck away from me!" she hisses.

Pure rage flashes in the captain's eyes as he wipes away the blood now running down his face. Clara holds her breath wondering if he's about to run her through with his sword. Instead he does something worse, he smiles. It's the grin of someone who knows they can hurt you and is going to enjoy doing it.

Clara gasps as the sick is ripped from her hands. The captain snaps it in half making her flinch. He throws the now useless weapon to the side then grabs Clara roughly by the hair. She shrieks in pain as he drags her forward.

Jack and Alonso both try to come to her aid but are stopped by the other soldiers. They train their swords on them holding them back. Jack glares, sizing them up. It's clear from his expression he's planning on taking them all on.

"Sir." cautions one of the women, placing a hand on the captain's arm. "Remember she is the Princess."

It takes a moment for the man to relinquish his grip on her hair. He keeps a tight hold on her upper arm to prevent her from running. Clara blinks past the tears caused by pain blurring her vision. She wants to scream and kick and claw his eyes out.

"My apologies, Highness." The captain says with false contrition. "You are clearly under the spell of a Trade Witch. For your safety you must come with us."

Clara glares, right into his dark eyes. "I will not."

The captain smiles again and slowly turns to glance at Jack and Alonso. "If you don't I'll kill them."

What the hell is she supposed to do? This is all insane. She's just Clara Oswald the computer nerd from the middle of nowhere. She isn't important, she isn't special, and she certainly isn't a princess. Why is any of this happening to her? What divine power did she piss off?

"Don't listen to him!" Alonso cries, earning nothing except a punch to the gut.

Clara sighs closing her eyes. "Alright." she whispers.

"Good girl."

"Clara don't." Jack warns.

"What was I supposed to do, let you die?" she says sadly as the soldiers march her from the house.

Jack and Alonso watch her go with equal looks of anger and horror. Clara wants to thank them for their kindness. She hopes her actions speak for her. Not that she feels all that noble at the moment. Clara really just feels like a scared confused girl. A girl separated from her family and friends with no control over her fate.

A large gilded carriage is waiting outside. It's pulled by four black horses and surrounded by several more. The doors bare the same family crest as the soldier's uniforms. Just as Clara's being shoved inside she catches a glimpse of Mrs. Gillyflower standing on her front porch. She grins smugly as one of the men hands her a satchel of gold.

"It was you!" Clara shouts at the horrid old hag, "You called them! You sold me out!"

Mrs. Gillyflower laughs brightly, "Even I have enough power to send a simple message, deary."

Clara can do nothing but continue to shout expletives as the door is slammed shut. The carriage pulls away from the tiny cluster of log cabins and back onto the Royal Road. The mounted soldiers fall into step alongside the carriage forming an honor guard. She watches as the houses slowly fade into the distance.

The captain, who Clara learns is named Angelo, and the female officer who spoke up are the only other people in the carriage with her. Not that she's going to say anything but Clara's glad the woman is there. She obviously thinks this Princess Oswin should be treated with respect which means as long as she's there she'll keep Angelo somewhat in check.

Leaning back against the violet cushions of the push interior Clara does her best to ignore the pair of them. The captain is still eyeing her the way a cat would a mouse. Since there's nothing she can do now, Clara stares out the window watching the countryside roll past.

The Lost Woods are a long ways behind them when they begin to pass villages and towns. Clara studied medieval art history in collage. It's as if all those boring slide projections have come to life. Farmers and blacksmiths and women hanging out clotheslines. Even in her current predicament she can't help but be amazed. The farther they travel the nicer and bigger the towns get. Wood houses give way to stone ones and dirt roads become paved with cobblestones. Obviously the closer you live to the capital the more money you have.

"You're lucky we found you when we did." says the woman suddenly, breaking the silence of the last few hours.

"And why's that?" Clara mutters.

She seems surprised by her response. "The Harvest Festival tomorrow. The emissaries from the Gray Court are already on their way. Your presence will ease the tensions between the Kingdoms."

Angelo huffs, "That won't stop anything. War is coming like it or not." He seems to relish the idea.

Clara doesn't respond. She doesn't want to get involved in any of this. Hopefully the royal family will see that she not their daughter and can find some way to get her back home. It's the only idea keeping her going at this point.

It isn't much longer before the carriage reaches the outskirts of a great walled city. Clara's mouth falls open as the two story white walls cast a shadow over them. They pass through a giant set of wooden doors manned by a patrol of heavily armed guards. An archway above the doors proclaimes the name of the capitol in three foot tall letters.

VIOLET CITY

Once inside the wall, which is several feet thick, Clara can finally see the palace of the Violet Court. It stands, raised on a hill, in the center of the great city towering over everything. Built from the same white stone as the wall its many towers and turrets glitter in the afternoon sun. The roof tiles and stained glass windows are various shades of purple along with the flags and banners flying in the breeze. Black ivy and thick wisteria climb the walls in stark contrast the bright stone, choking out the windows.

It's so beautiful that Clara forgets her fears for the moment.

The rest of the soldiers divert from the group when the carriage reaches the drive up to the castle. They continue on towards their barracks. When the horses pull to a stop at the entrance Clara's too busy staring to notice. Angelo opens the door and hauls her out. This time he's trying to act courteous rather than commanding. Clara knows that's only because of where they are and wrenches her arm out of his grasp.

"Shit." whispers the female officer, whose name Clara still hasn't bothered to ask.

She's glaring nervously at another coach at the end of the drive. It is even nicer than the one they arrived in and is silver. There's a different crest painted on its doors in black. It features a rearing unicorn.

"The Gray Court is already here."

* * *

Hey an on time update!

We meet the Doctor (John Smith) in the next chapter! I'm excited :)

Things are picking up

umm... Review?


	5. Chemistry

Sorry this is really, really late. I've been on vacation in New York City!

Enjoy

* * *

**~Chemistry~**

Clara is marched into the throne room. She knows she doesn't look very princess-y. No shoes, hair un-combed, and wearing a borrowed nightdress, she looks more like a street urchin than anything. The marble floors are freezing under her feet. The inside of the palace is beautiful in the way that a museum is beautiful; gilded, cold, and intimidating. Lovely but untouchable.

The throne room is the same only with the addition of two really big chairs. They're ornately carved from dark wood and lined with velvet. The room is otherwise empty. Inset columns decorate the long hall disappearing into the vaulted ceiling. Two story arched stain glass windows throw multicolored patterns of light across the tiled floor. It's the only thing cheerful looking about the place.

A group of men and women stand at the end of the hall. Their extravagant clothing make their appearance ethereal. The men in tunics or mail, and the women in long billowing gowns. When they hear Clara's approach they turn with surprise. The king and queen are easy to pick out due to their crowns sculpted in silver and amethyst.

Clara's escorts bow formally, binding at the waist. She isn't sure what to do so Clara just bows her head awkwardly. The king's mouth falls open when he sees her and the queen's eyes narrow slightly before she smiles.

"Oswin!" cries the king rushing forward.

He swoops her into his arms, hugging her forcefully. Clara feels terrible. She doesn't want to give the poor man hope only to take it away. She meets the queen's eyes over his shoulder. The woman is scrutinizing her carefully, her expression hawk-like.

The king finally takes in Clara's disheveled appearance. He turns red glancing around at the other people in the throne room.

"Good lord! You're not decent! Where are your clothes? Where have you been?" he rambles.

Clara decides this had gone on long enough, "I'm sorry, umm… you're Majesty, but I'm not your daughter. I tried explaining this to your men. My name is Clara."

The man's eyes widen then glazed over. The king's face goes blank and his shoulders slump slightly. Clara blinks in surprise. What's wrong with him?

"That's nice Oswin." he says with a vapid smile and toneless voice.

_What the **hell**?_

"No. I'm not-"

"That's enough dear. Clearly you've been through quite the ordeal." the queen says, cutting her off. She dares Clara to challenge her. "Now, you shouldn't be in public like this. I'll have the maids sent up to help you look more presentable for our guests."

_She knows I'm not her daughter_, Clara thinks. _She just doesn't want anyone else to know_.

Clara finally takes in the other people in the room. There's a young man in fine gray wool with a proud face and blonde hair. There are also two other women. A girl in a fluffy dress, a little younger than Clara. Actually she looks _a lot_ like Clara herself, same dark eyes, same hair. Clara's afraid to think about that too hard. She doesn't want to know what that could mean.

The other woman has red hair which is the brightest shade of any color Clara's seen in Shades. She's obviously a solider of some kind. Delectate chain mail shows under her gray tunic at the neck and arms. She has a sword, dagger, and several mysterious pouches belted at her waist. But it's her male counterpart who catches Clara's eyes.

He's tall and thin, and dressed exactly the same as the female soldier. His dark hair flops down over his angular face. He's good looking, if unusual. Their eyes meet and Clara feels a bolt of electricity run down her spine. She shivers and forgets everything else in the room.

She wants to move closer but her feet are rooted to the spot. His eyes - Clara can't decide if they're green or blue - widened and his lips part slightly. _Chemistry._ She doesn't have any other way to describe it. Just chemistry which makes her heart beat faster and sends tingles across her skin.

It's over as soon as it begins. The queen drags her out of the throne room to a servant waiting to take her upstairs. Clara can't help glancing back at the handsome solider. He's still watching her, his expression unreadable. The other man is staring too, yet Clara hardly notices.

The maid takes her up to Princess Oswin's chambers. They go up three flights of stairs and through several corridors before they reach the right wing. Clara doubts that she'll be able to find her way back without help. She keeps thinking about the man. Clara's never experienced anything like that before. Sure she's been attracted to people but nothing like _that_.

Getting home is what she should be focusing on though. Clara tries to put the butterflies in her stomach out of her mind.

Oswin's bedroom is huge. It has a sitting area with a small fireplace and an antique vanity set. The bed itself is fantastic. Large with an ornate frame and sheer canopy. Clara resists the urge to throw herself onto the plush mattress and sink into the pillows. Doors led off the main room to a walk-in closet and on-suite bath. There are even a pair of French doors that open onto a little balcony overlooking the gardens. Oswin has a pretty nice life.

Three maids shuffle into the room. Identified by their plain pale purple dresses and leggings. None of them are much older than Clara herself and they break out in huge smiles when they see her. One girl has even redder hair than the solider downstairs.

"Princess you're back!" cries a girl with fair skin and dark hair. "The 'ole staff 'as been outta their 'eads with worry!"

"Oh umm… I'm not her."

"What'da ya mean, miss?"

"There's been a mistake. I'm not Oswin." Clara's getting tired of explaining this to everyone. It's kinda sad that no one knows Oswin well enough to see the difference.

The ladies glance at each other with concern. Clara can tell they don't believe her. They probably think she's lost her marbles or is under a spell or something. She sighs internally. The only way to get through this is to smile and nod.

"Well either way miss we need to get you ready for dinner." says the oldest of the maids. She's statuesque with a stern mouth. Clara figures arguing with her is a bad idea.

Food sounds wonderful since she hadn't eaten all day. Her current ability to keep down any food at this point is up in the air though. Especially if she's supposed to eat with Mr. Zombie King and his ice lady. Yeah that's going to be an awesome meal.

The girls, whose names turn out to be Jenny, Vastra, and Amy, set to work on her. Vastra's clearly in charge of the group, giving orders and overseeing everything. Jenny 's very calm and quiet by comparison. The red head, Amy, on the other hand, has no attention span what-so-ever. She's constantly moving and talking, while not getting a lot done.

"What on Earth have you been doing?" Amy laments, "Your nails are a wreak."

Clara doesn't know how to respond. The whole situation is extremely weird. The maids don't give her any time for embarrassment. They practically drown her in the bathtub and scrub her skin raw. She tries to control her blushing as they buff and polish, and comb her into perfection.

Amy dries Clara's hair while relating all the palace gossip she's missed out on. Clara has no clue who she's talking about but she does notice that a lot of Amy's comments are about a guard named Rory. What he'd been doing and what he'd said to her lately and how she'd been there to rescue him when he almost fell down the stairs. Vastra and Jenny exchange knowing smiles behind her back. Obviously Amy's infatuation is nothing new.

Clara finds herself smiling too. Back home she has Nina, but Nina's more interested in football and 'accidentally' setting things on fire than gossiping about boys. It's kinda nice to do something girly for a change. Though Clara gets the feeling that these girls could handle themselves pretty well from the way they work.

"Oh wow." Clara breathes looking in the mirror.

She's always been cute but the girl looking back at her is a supermodel. Her skin is smooth and soft. Her hair is artfully pined up leaving a few curled strands hanging to her shoulders. Her makeup is understated bringing out the darkness of her eyes and the color in her lips. Clara has never been very concerned about her appearance but right now she's stunned. These girls are magicians .

Amy and Jenny laugh at her reaction.

"Now you just need a dress." Vastra says disappearing into the closet.

"The Prince is going to be there, pick out something fun."

Vastra doesn't respond. They can hear her shuffling things around.

"The Prince?" Clara asks.

"Prince 'arold of the Gray Court." says Jenny slowly, "Didn't cho see 'em when you came in?"

Clara gets a brief flash of the proud faced young man in the throne room. "Oh right."

Amy smiles, "He's so handsome."

Clara hadn't really noticed, she'd been too distracted. "Who was the man with him? The solider?"

"The Gray Knight." says Vastra stepping back into the room. She's holding a long silk gown. "He travels everywhere with the Prince."

The girls set to work lacing Clara into the dress. The delicately beaded bodice hugs her curves and the skirt falls in loose waves to her ankles. She feels really out of place in something this fancy.

"I met him when they first came in. He's actually really nice unlike most of the knights around here." Amy explains, "His name is John Smith."

Sorry this is really, really late. I've been on vacation in New York City!

Enjoy

* * *

Notes:

The Prince I'm envisioning as a younger version of John Simm's Master.

after this chapter the action is really going to pick up because I like adventure stories ;)


	6. Threats

I'm switching this to Wednesday updates because my schedule is so crazy I can never finish a chapter by Tuesday.

Thanks to everyone for your wonderful reviews!

Enjoy XD

* * *

**~Threats~**

Clara's starting to get really nervous. Her stomach is in knots and her palms are clammy just at the thought of eating dinner with the royal family. The King's obviously drugged or something and the Queen is - well she didn't actually have an f'ing clue what is up with the Queen. Clara's pretty sure the woman knows she isn't her daughter. But why hide that? Unless, Clara reasons with growing dread, she already knows what happened to Oswin.

Oh yeah that's a comforting thought.

The door across the room feels a million miles away. All she has to do is walk through it and head downstairs - assuming of course that she can find her way back down there. She just has to act natural and play along. Maybe then Clara can figure out what the hell's going on around here. Or at least a way out of here. Then she can go back to Jack and Alonso.

Clara swallows hard, tears burning in the corners of her eyes. It's a pointless notion to entertain. She doesn't even know where Violet City is in relation to the Lost Woods. The drive took them most of the day and she didn't really pay the closest attention to all the turns they made. Even if she gets out of this castle, getting back to Jack and Alonso will be next to impossible.

_Stop stalling._ Clara tells herself firmly. Her maids already think she's crazy and standing here staring at the door isn't helping. _Just suck it up and get this over with._

Taking a deep breath to steady herself Clara marches across the bedroom. She's reaching for the doorknob when it turns and the door swings open. Clara nearly jumps out of her skin. She's wound so tight that little shock practically gives her a heart attack.

That is nothing compared to when she realizes who opened the door. The Queen with her short brown hair and pinched expression stands before Clara. Her mouth is so severe it looks as if she's been sucking on a lemon. As if her constant state is disapproval and distain for everyone. Her eyes are cold and calculating. They sweep over Clara's new and improved appearance making her feel like she's being x-rayed.

It takes all of Clara's willpower not to shiver or step backwards. She read somewhere that running or showing fear to a wild animal makes it more likely to attack. The Queen may not be a grizzly bear, but Clara feels the same rules applied. Show any weakness and she'll go for the throat.

"Leave us." the Queen says sharply to the three girls who are cleaning up.

Amy, Jenny, and Vastra leave quickly not wanting to incur any of her wrath. Vastra, Clara notices, walks more slowly than the others refusing to be pushed from the room. If only she could proudly saunter out of this situation. She wants to run after them or beg them to stay. But Clara isn't a coward and she meets the Queen's icy gaze evenly.

The moment the door swing shut behind them the Queen smiles. There was no warmth in it and her eyes remain hard. It's the smile of a cat whose cornered a mouse and is going to enjoy pulling it apart piece by piece. Clara swallows, choking down panic.

_Don't blink, don't blink, don't blink. Whatever you do don't blink._

"Now I think we have a few things to discuss." says the Queen. "Namely, who are you?"

So she does know. "Clara Oswald, You're Majesty."

Keeping things polite is probably the best option. Maybe if she gets on the woman's good side there's still a way out of this mess. Clara holds her breath as the Queen circles her taking in every detail.

"It's uncanny. There isn't a single detail missing, you're her spitting image. How is that possible?"

The Queen's standing in front of her again. She squints at Clara trying to solve the puzzle of her existence. Something Clara doesn't have an answer for.

"I don't know."

"Well there's a difference," the woman says coldly, "My daughter is better educated. You were clearly raised in some backwoods bit of nowhere."

A spark of anger flares in Clara's chest. Sure her town maybe in no where's vile, but she isn't some corn-fed simpleton and neither are the rest of her family.

"Aww, touched a nerve there did we?" she laughs.

Clara bites back her retort which includes several four letter words. Instead she says, "If you know I'm not your daughter than why am I still here?"

"Your insolence is wearing on my nerves, girl."

She really doesn't fucking care, she's sick of being intimidated by this bitch. "What do you want with me?"

The Queen's eyes narrow. "Because I need a replacement and you just happened to fall into my lap."

"A replacement?" Clara gasps. Wow so much for motherly love. "I'm not going to do that."

There's that smile again. "If you value your life you will. Since my daughter decided to disappear in the middle of the most important peace negotiations in history, you're going to have to take her place. Or I'll have you executed as an imposter."

Cold dread runs down Clara's spine. She fully believes the Queen will do exactly as she promised and won't lose a wink of sleep over it either. It feels like the walls are closing in around her. She can feel the invisible chains twisting around her limbs and binding her to this beautiful prison. Clara doesn't want to die. She doesn't see a way out of this.

The Queen can see the defeat in her eyes. "That's a good girl."

* * *

"Queen Viola Kovarian and Princess Oswin Kovarian." announces the short man in a vest standing beside the doors to the dining hall.

It's a little redundant since presumably everyone inside already knows their names. Stepping through the large wooden doorway, Clara isn't sure if she's expecting Great Hall of Hogwarts or what. There are no sky ceilings or floating candles, but it's certainly no ordinary room. Purple silks hang from the ceiling swaying in a nonexistent breeze. And the long dark table sparkles with gold and cut-crystal dinnerware. However, the opulence of the polished floors and vaulted windows are not what makes the room unusual.

The black vine wisteria Clara saw outside grows along the stone walls and around the windows. The petals of the flowers glow softly casting the room in a warm light paired with the hanging torches. The plants can't possibly be real - there's nowhere for them to be growing from - yet they look very much alive.

The men at the table rise to their feet as Clara and the Queen walk in. They take the two empty seats beside the King. The only other people there are Prince Harold, who Clara ends up sitting across from, and the girl she saw earlier. That and the half dozen servants lining the room, which bothers her. She doesn't deserve to have people waiting on her, nor does she need it.

"Are you feeling better, sister?"

Oh that's not awkward at all. Clara was afraid of this, because no matter what she wanted to believe the girl looks way too much like her to be anyone other than Oswin's sister. Her only consolation is that the girl probably isn't allowed to ask where Clara's been in front of Harold. That gives Clara some time to think of a response to those future questions.

"Much, thank you." Clara says trying to sound proper. She sounds like an idiot to her own ears, but no one says anything at least.

A strange expression flickers over the girl's face. Any further discussion is diverted by the arrival of their meal. Clara wonders what the girl, whose name she's going to have to figure out eventually, is thinking. Can she tell that there's something off? Hopefully, because it would be sad if she couldn't. Clara looks down at her plate wishing she could disappear. This is so wrong.

There is strangely no meat among the dishes placed before them. Clara doesn't mind she just thinks it odd for royalty. Pretty soon she's going to have to stop thinking things are odd or she'll go mad. Everything about her life right now is fucking bizarre. Pushing it all from her mind, Clara focuses on eating. She's starving and it's a simple mundane task she can deal with.

"I'm glad you've returned safely, Princess." says Prince Harold suddenly with a shy smile.

Clara sets down her fork unable to help smiling back. For the first time she really looks at the man. From his fitted tunic, cropped blonde hair, and intelligent eyes, she has to admit Amy's right. He is handsome. Though Clara finds herself unconsciously comparing him to John Smith.

The Knight is attractive in an entirely different way and while Harold's smile is flattering it doesn't make her heart flutter in her chest. Not that Clara has any business having fluttering feelings over anyone. This is _so_ not the time. It's just one more thing to bury.

"Thank you." she murmurs.

"And it's so fortunate since the Harvest Ball is tomorrow." says Queen Viola smugly.

"The Harvest Ball?" Clara asks.

"Yes darling the masquerade." Viola says pointedly, warning her to stop asking questions she's supposed to already know the answer to.

"You and Lavender have always loved the Harvest Ball." The King speaks for the first time. His voice is still monotone and there's no light in his eyes, like a sleepwalker. Does no one else find this weird? "When you were little you would stay up the whole night before." he continues.

Clara glances over at her "sister" who must be Lavender. It's a better name than Oswin at any rate except for the whole purple theme. Lavender doesn't look happy, her brows furrow as she stares at her father.

"Yes we remember." she says.

"Of course this will be the most exciting Ball we've had." grins Viola at the Prince, who flushes slightly. "We will finally be able to make the official announcement of your betrothal to Oswin."

By some miracle Clara doesn't choke on her mulled wine.

"What?" she coughs, carefully setting down her goblet.

She must have misheard the Queen, there's no way she just said that. No way she's expecting Clara to marry some stranger just so she can keep up appearances. Because that sure as hell is not happening. No freaking way! Clara doesn't care what Viola threatens her with she isn't going through with that!

Harold turns to her in surprise. "Did you think the agreement had been thrown out in your absence? You don't have to worry the arrangement still stands." He assures her as if that's what she wants to hear.

"Yes I was concerned about that. This is wonderful news." Clara hears herself say when she opens her mouth to object.

_What the** fuck?**_

She can't even freak-out, just smile lovingly at the Prince. Clara wants to scream. She has no control over what she's doing. Someone else is making her mouth move.

Harold's shy grin morphs into more of a smirk which she doesn't like. She doesn't want him to think of her that way. Much less does Clara want Harold to think she thinks of him that way. She literally just met the man.

The grip over Clara fades giving her back control over her own mouth. She immediately stops smiling trying not to jump to her feet and start running. Meeting the Queen's smug gaze Clara's positive she's the one doing this. No doubt that is what's wrong with the King as well. What else can Viola make her do? How can she get away from someone who can control her like that?

If Oswin ran away Clara wouldn't blame her one bit. Her family is insane.

The rest of dinner passes without incident though Clara loses any appetite she had. Realizing you're powerless against a force you don't understand will do that to a person. She hates feeling helpless, but without any other options Clara can only keep playing along.

Amy, Jenny, and Vastra are waiting for her when she gets back to Oswin's room. _Her room_ now. As nice as the girls are she really wants to be left alone. That way she can go to pieces by herself. They see Clara's distracted and help her out of the dress before bidding her goodnight.

"Thank you." Clara whispers as they left. She means it; they're the only people who've been kind to her since she got to Violet City. Maybe under different circumstances they could even be friends.

Amy places a hand on her shoulder then slips out without a word.

Clara sighs, a tear falling down her cheek. Needing air she opens the French doors to the balcony. The cool evening breeze chills her skin under her thin dressing gown. Leaning against the carved stone railing Clara stares up at the moon. It looks the same as she's always remembered it. Is it the same moon she's knew as a child or merely an echo? She doesn't know.

Movement in the courtyard below catches her attention. It's the Gray Knight, John Smith. He holds a long stick in both hands and is moving between fighting poses. Clara recognizes it as some form of martial arts. He wears no shirt, his pale skin glowing in the moonlight. The shiver runs through her again as she watches him. Sensing her gaze John looks up and their eyes meet.

Clara turns and runs back inside her heart pounding.


	7. Cold

Hello my Dulcet Darlings!

Thanks once again for all your lovely comments! I'm having a lot of fun writing this story and it's always great to hear what people think of it :D So anyone who reviews this chapter will get a basket of imaginary cookies!

Enjoy XD

* * *

**~Cold~**

The palace is in a fervor in preparation for the Harvest Ball. They probably have been for weeks considering the amount of decorations which go up overnight. Pumpkins, gourds, wreathes, and blank candles cover nearly every surface. The whole building smells of apples and cinnamon. Servants rush back and forth carrying garlands and bouquets of black flowers.

"Are you even listening?" a voice breaks into Clara's inner musings.

"No."

Vastra sighs exasperated and sets aside her folders. "The Queen wants me to go over this with you."

Clara glares at the pile of papers. For the past three hours Vastra's been teaching her the names and occupations of every member of each royal family. It's exhausting and she's already forgotten half of them.

Vastra frowns thinking things over. "Clara." She sighs finally.

Clara glances up at the use of her real name. The woman is watching her sadly with understanding her eyes. Vastra is wasted as a maid. She can see right through to the heart of things. Under Vastra's scrutiny Clara feels like a puzzle being solved.

"I'm sorry for not believing you before. It's becoming increasingly obvious that you are not - or at least are not currently - Oswin. Your mannerisms, expressions, and ways of speech are all different. Not to mention the fact that this is all information you should have learned when you were three."

Clara blinks at her for a moment. A slightly hysterical giggle escapes her mouth before she can stop it. Its either relief or burgeoning madness and she isn't positive which. Clara's tempted to start crying but that would be ridiculous. Having someone actually believe her makes Clara feel as if a lead weight has been lifted from her chest. Just the idea that someone understands her situation is a powerful thing.

"The Queen won't let me leave."

"I figured as much." says Vastra, "She's very concerned with reputation and if word got out that the Crown Princess ran away rather than be married off Viola wouldn't know what to do."

"So that's what happened? She ran away?"

"I think so. I know she hated Prince Harold, though I'm not sure why. She refused to go through with the wedding. Oswin would never talk about it but I'm positive that the Queen made her unable to eat until she changed her mind."

"I would run away too." Clara says in horror. She is going to run. The moment she sees an opportunity she's going to run and never look back. Clara phrases her next question carefully unsure how much Vastra knows. "How does the Queen _influence_ people?"

Vastra snorts, "You mean, how does she turn them into her dancing puppets?"

"Yeah. How can anyone do that?"

"She's a witch."

"A witch? Like with a broomstick and a cauldron and stuff?" Clara asks. Of course she would manage to piss off a witch. That is just Clara's luck. Because pissing off a crazy queen isn't bad enough, she just has to also be a witch. Right.

"Cauldrons maybe, I'm not so sure about broomsticks." Vastra says. "Viola left the Order to marry King

"The Order?"

"Order and Chaos. I guess you wouldn't know about that would you." Vastra says, "Ok I'll give you the brief overview. Shades, as you may have guessed, is divided into two kingdoms - Gray and Violet - separated by the Lost Woods. In each kingdom there is a coven of the most powerful witches. Not just your average potion maker, but people with who can weld serious damage. The covens are completely autonomous to the governments though they often work closely with the courts. Leaving either coven is a big deal especially to marry into a royal family."

Clara thinks this over. It helps give some context. Knowledge is always the best weapon and currently she's at a distinct disadvantage. But she doesn't have to be. Clara grins in determination making Vastra raise a delicate eyebrow.

"I need you to teach me everything you know about this place."

She is going to beat the Queen at her own game.

Vastra's eyes glitter mischievously, "Let's get started."

* * *

Clara studies maps and dates and names. She's determined to memorize everything; the littlest scrap of information could be what gets her out of this. Vastra, Jenny, and Amy spend the whole afternoon teaching her everything they know. Between learning geography, history, and politics, they teach her etiquette.

She knew vaguely that there were rules about knifes and which fork to eat with. It turns out to be exceedingly more complex than she guessed. Honestly in her opinion all the niceties served only to make it easier to offend people. Despite her disbelief that it could ever matter which hand you hold a soup spoon with, Clara takes it all in. She's not going to give Viola any reason to come after her.

The girls also teach her how to dance. Jenny brings in a tiny music box which plays a simple waltz and sets it on the vanity. Amy places her hand on Clara's waist and shows her where to step. She's terrible at first but soon gets the hang of it. After switching out the tumbler in the music box, Vastra and Jenny step in to help with the group dances.

They weave in and out trying not to step on each other's feet. It doesn't work. They end up a tangled laughing mess. Clara's actually having fun and it surprises her. As they right themselves she notices the way Vastra and Jenny's fingers linger on each other and their small smiles. She bites back her own grin because there's certainly something going on there.

That makes her think of something else. "So Amy is Rory going to be at this Ball tonight?" Clara says watching Amy turn red.

"He'll be stationed at the entrance."

"That's too bad," Clara teases, "You could show him your moves."

"I won't be at the Ball either." Says Amy sadly.

"What, why not? Don't you want to go?"

"The only servants allowed in will be the servers and a few guards." explains Vastra.

Well that's crap! Hanging out with them was the only way this would have been enjoyable. That's out the window. It's not fair, from the look on Amy's face she clearly wants to go. Why should they be prevented from having any fun? What made the blue bloods any better? She doesn't let her annoyance show on her face. She doesn't want Amy to feel any worse since she's already put her foot in her mouth.

"Well at least that means you don't have to hang with Her Majesty the Head Case."

With two hours until the ball Clara's maids leave to get her costume. They said it took them three weeks to complete it. Clara wonders why they even bothered with Oswin missing. At least this way their hard work isn't wasted even if it wasn't meant for her.

Clara is floored when she sees the thing. It's all black sequence and sheer fabric. It also looks really tight. Thank god Clara and Oswin have the same measurement because the dress is a second skin. The top is covered in black sequence with a plunging neckline. The dress itself only goes down to mid-thigh. A sheer cobweb-like skirt falls from the waist to her ankles paired with a web shaped collar to make Clara look like a spider goddess. It's accented by black satin armbands and dark crystal jewelry.

Amy rolls up her hair into waves which remind Clara of pictures she's seen of the 1940s. Oswin's silver tiara is placed on her head and it's heaver than she expected. Jenny paints her lips blood red while Vastra ties on her dark spider web mask. Glancing in the mirror Clara can hardly recognize herself.

"You guys are amazing." she says. She can't believe they did all this. "It's incredible."

"No one is going to top this." Amy agrees with a smirk.

"'choo better get goin'." Jenny says shooing her towards the door. "You're gonna be late."

* * *

Clara feels like she's shaken hands with everyone on the planet. The first half-hour of the Harvest Ball is nothing but introductions. She stands with the rest of the royal family to greet the guests as they arrive. Lavender is her exact opposite as a butterfly. Her dress is demur and as close to pastel colored as anything can be in Shades. For whatever reason it makes Clara think of catholic saints. Viola is a rose garden in a costume that's actually made up of thousands of tiny fabric roses. They range through every shade of pink growing darker as they go down.

The king is appropriately a jester.

The ballroom is huge. An orchestra on a raised platform plays on one end and on the other doors lead out into the palace courtyard. It's autumn, day of the dead, and old Hollywood all at once. Black tapers drip onto candelabras. Twisted dark trees rest in the corners filled with sparkling lights. Spiders and bats and skeletons hang around the room set against sequence and silk. Everything glitters and shines.

Clara is forced to smile and dance with a series of business men and politicians. They're often twice or even triple her age. She tries to make small talk but they mostly end up staring in opposite directions awkwardly. Without the girls' dance lesson it would have been a disaster. At least she doesn't have to lead though she would prefer not having strangers put their hands on her. Most of the men are nice enough but a few find their eyes drawn to Clara's low neckline. She has a tendency to 'accidently' step on those men's feet.

"Might I have this dance?" asks a voice she doesn't know.

Clara spins around and it's him. John Smith, dressed as some kind of highway vagabond, is standing there smiling shyly. She feels her cheeks flush but suppresses any other emotions. She's never been one of those girls who swoons over the hot guys in high school. Her reaction to the man yesterday makes Clara feel like an idiot. She almost wants to tell him to go away, but she doesn't.

"Alright." She says.

John's smile widens lighting up the room. The orchestra starts in on a slow waltz as he takes her hand. Clara feels warmth spreading across her skin where he places his palm on her waist. John's an even worse dancing than she is. Ungainly and awkward, but endearing. Clara wonders how he manages as a Knight with two left feet.

"Are you enjoying the party?" Clara asks. What a stupid thing to ask. It's as bad as talking about the weather.

"Yes." He nods, ears turning red.

She wonders why that would make him blush. His eyes shift between green and blue in the candle light. They appear too old for his young face, as if they've seen too much. A twinge of sadness curls in her belly. Unconsciously Clara leans closer to John. His eyes flicker to her lips.

"It's nice to finally meet you, You're Highness." John says. He really does look happy but also nervous. Though maybe that's part of his personality.

"Clara." She corrects without thinking.

John blinks, "Clara?"

Realizing her mistake too late, Clara bites her lip. Freezing in place she still has her hand on his shoulder. Shit she just blew everything! If word gets back to the Queen she's screwed. John watches her panic with growing concern on his face.

"Please don't tell anyone I said that." Clara whispers glancing around. The fact that they've stopped dancing is starting to attract attention.

"I promise." he says. It looks like he really means it. He also sees the eyes in their direction, "Why don't we step outside?"

Clara tries her best to act natural as she follows him through the open doors. Several couples stand just outside talking and drinking. The night breeze is refreshing and helps calm her nerves. They wander down one of the gravel paths without speaking. Clara isn't sure where this is going, but she isn't compelled to leave. There is something strangely magnetic about John.

They come across a circular clearing with a stone bench. John sits down, gives her a crooked smile inviting her to sit too. That smile makes her heart do funny things which her head doesn't like. Yet she still sits down.

"You wanna tell me about it?"

Clara frowns, "Why should I tell you anything?"

"I don't know," he shrugs, "I'm good listener. Plus it doesn't take a genius to see that something's on your mind."

She doesn't say anything for a long time then it all just comes tumbling out. Clara can't stop talking. She tells John everything from Broken Bridge to the Queen's threats. He sits there just watching her while she gets it all out. Finally Clara stops and waits for John to say something. To call her crazy and leave or get the Queen.

Instead he says, "They have brighter colors where you come from?"

Clara's mouth falls open. "That's your takeaway? Brighter colors?"

"Yeah…" he raises an eyebrow. "You thought I wouldn't believe you."

"You have no reason too."

John says, "I have no reason not to. When you've spent as much time as I have in the outer districts strange starts to sound normal."

Clara finds herself leaning towards him again. "Thank you."

The corner of his mouth pulls up in the ghost of a smile. "I didn't do anything. You should talk to the Oracle, she might know something."

"Who?" Clara breaths.

"The Oracle. She can see the future." John mutters.

His eyes drop to her lips again. Clara's breath hitches in her chest. Her heart flutters as he leans forward. John is so close she can feel the heat of his skin. It's blistering in the autumn chill. Clara closes her eyes. There's a chime of a clock.

"There're about to announce your betrothal." John says and then he's gone. Leaving Clara sitting on the stone bench in the now bitter cold.


	8. Breathe

Hello fantastic friends!

So school started up this week cutting into my precious writing time, but I was determined to finish this chapter today :D

As always I love reviews! Enjoy XD

* * *

**~Breathe~**

It takes Clara a minute to pull herself back together. Had she just imagined that John was leaning in to kiss her? It's been a hell of a long time since she's had a romantic liaison of any kind. Did she misread the situation? Is that why he left? He realized what Clara was thinking and didn't want it?

Clara gets to her feet, shoving away the hurt and embarrassment which threatens to overwhelm her. It's a dull ache in her chest. It feels like she's been punched in the gut, but she has to go back inside and pretend to be happy. And happy is the furthest from what she's feeling right now. Putting on her best poker face Clara slips back into the ballroom.

As she steps through the open doors Clara can't help glancing around. She doesn't see John. Did he leave? She hopes so, because she doesn't want to see him again. She doesn't even want to think about him. Prince Harold is waiting for her along with the eyes of everyone at the ball. It suddenly gets hard to breathe. He is dressed as a Knight.

"It's time, my dear." Harold glances over Clara's shoulder towards the courtyard. Guilt creeps into her emotions even though there's no reason for it. The man is engaged to Oswin not her. Not that anything happened in the courtyard anyway. A blush colors the back of her neck before Harold takes her arm.

Clara forces a small smile. It probably looks fake.

The crowd of opulently dressed dancers makes way for them. They watch expectantly as Harold leads her to the platform where the rest of the family is waiting. King Toby and Queen Viola are beaming. They look like this is the greatest day of their lives. They look so happy for her. Lavender, on the other hand, her smile is as fake as Clara's. Her eyes are cold and distant.

The King steps forward and the crowd goes silent. "Here on this most joyous of holidays I bring to you even more glad tidings! A royal union between my daughter Princess Oswin Kovarian of the Violet Kingdom and Prince Harold Saxon of the Gray Court!"

The ballroom erupts into cheers and applause. It sounds like a death march. Grinning to the crowd, Harold wraps his arm around her waist pulling her closer. Instinctively, she steps away. Or tries to. He tightens his grip holding her in place. Resisting the urge to stamp on his foot - no one is allowed to manhandle her - Clara keeps smiling.

"Now our two kingdoms will be joined in an era of peace and prosperity." Harold says in a ringing voice making the crowd cheer harder.

Clara goes ridged when he leans forward to press his lips to hers. Revulsion curls her stomach though the kiss itself is not wholly unpleasant. She knows this is all for show. She can feel Viola judging her reaction and, as hard as it is to do, Clara relaxes into the kiss. It goes against everything in her to lean forward, but she does. Clara can feel his surprise.

The kiss is over almost as soon as it begun. It feels like eternity.

When Harold pulls back his smile is slightly smug. "That was different." he says so only Clara can hear.

She doesn't know how to respond. What does that mean? Did he kiss Oswin before? Is that why she hated him? Movement on the other end of the hall catches her eye. Someone dressed as a vagabond walks out of the ballroom. A sharp pain blooms behind her sternum. It finds home with the dull ache currently weighing down her heart.

Clara forces her attention back to the Prince. He's watching her closely and she wonders if he knows where her eyes just went. If he does he doesn't say anything. Finally removing his grip on her, Harold steps back. The weight of his hand lingers. It feels like a bruise against her skin.

The orchestra strikes up a waltz and the crowd parts before them. Rattled, Clara forgets what's supposed to happen next. Why is he pulling her forward? Why are people clearing the center of the floor?

"My lady?" Harold says, bowing low at the waist.

_Curtsy! You're supposed to curtsy_! Screams the functional part of her brain. _Curtsy? Oh right…_ holding out her sheer skirt Clara gives it her best effort. Vastra would probably be disappointed but at least she doesn't fall on her face. This is the engagement waltz. They have to lead the dance just like the king and queen on prom night. It's such an incongruous image Clara almost laughs.

Harold leads her out to the center of the ballroom. She can feel the eager eyes tracing her movements. Everyone here expects something of Oswin. And she's not her. Clara needs to smile, to look happy. She can't blow this by letting people see the way her skin crawls when Harold touches her. So she does.

He leads her into the steps, rotating them in time with the slow music. Submitting dominance is difficult, but she swallows it down and keeps smiling. No one can say she's not keeping up her end of the bargain.

"You look beautiful tonight." He whispers in her ear and it sounds genuine.

"Thank you." Clara mumbles.

What else can she say? Harold hasn't really given her any reason to dislike him. The kiss was for show. It was expected. He seems nice even, but she knows not to ignore her instincts. That's what got her stuck in Shades in the first place. She knew something was wrong at Broken Bridge and she jumped anyway.

Just as Clara knows there's something off about Harold. Maybe it's the way his eyes linger where they shouldn't or that smile which is almost a smirk. Maybe it's a lot of things and maybe it's all in her head. But the bottom line is Clara doesn't trust him.

They make it through the dance and Clara is finally able to get away from him. Excusing herself for a drink she sneaks away. Moving along the edges of the room Clara avoids Harold and the rest of the royals for the rest of the evening. Thankfully the party is nearly over so she doesn't have to dodge for long.

As midnight approaches marking the day where the land of the spirits is perfectly aligned with their own the room begins to countdown.

"Ten!"

Clara edges towards the door. This is the perfect distraction.

"Nine!"

She glances around to see if anyone will notice her escape. She just wants out of here.

"Eight!"

Clara slips out of the ballroom and rushes to the stairs before anyone can stop her.

"Seven!"

The intoxicated voices fade as she follows the path the girls taught her to get back to Oswin's bedroom. Now Clara can breathe. No one is watching her. No one is making her be someone else. She sighs, stopping at an arched stone window and pulling of her mask.

The full moon pours light in pooling on the floor around her feet. Closing her eyes Clara tries to let go of the weight in her chest. The rejection, the uncertainty, she wants to wish it all away. Sadly life doesn't work like that.

"What are you doing up here?" John's voice asks.

Her breathe hitches in shock and something else. Opening her eyes, Clara doesn't turn around. She doesn't want to see him. Embarrassment and anger twist her gut.

"What do you want?" she counters.

"I-" John pauses, voice strained. "I saw you and I thought I should -"

"What?" Clara bites, "Make sure I'm alright? I can take care of myself, thanks."

"That's not- I mean-. I was worried."

That strikes a nerve. Clara whips around to face him. Her mask falls to the floor. He's standing just inside the pool of light from the window, his face half in shadow. It makes him look older, darker somehow. But she can see the discomfort - and is that remorse - on his features. It makes her retort die on her tongue.

"You left the ball." Clara says lamely.

John meets her gaze. There's an intensity in his expression she doesn't expect. Ignoring her implied question he says, "Why am I here?"

It's a question more to himself than Clara. She doesn't fully understand it. Electric tingles race across her skin when he takes a step closer. That's something she does understand. _Want._ Clara wants John to kiss her, to hold her, anything more than this.

"Why did you leave?" she asks.

They are even closer now, merely inches apart. Standing in the spotlight of the moon. Nothing outside of it exists. It's only them and the moonlight.

"I'm a soldier, a servant." John says so softly she can barely hear it. "There are things I can't have."

"That's stupid." Clara says bluntly.

He laughs breathlessly. And it breaks the barriers. John closes the distance between them hungrily. His calloused hands cradle her face as he seals Clara's mouth with his. A wild desire stirs inside her when she presses back, arms lifting up to wrap around his neck.

It's better than anything she could have imagined. John tastes like honey and cinnamon. Like storms and the sea. The soft sound he makes when she runs her tongue over his bottom lip burns through her. Fingers trail down her spine and tug her closer. Clara responds in kind. She wants _more_. She wants all of John. More than she's ever wanted anyone.

He is soft, pliant, and willing; tongue licking deep into her mouth. They breathe into each other, bodies molded together. Hands eager and uncertain and desperate to explore. Clara traces the shape of his jaw with her fingertips as if committing it to memory. Slowly they break apart breathing heavy. Lips swollen and pink, faces flush.

John smiles at her, pupils wide. "I'm sorry." he says.

"For what?"

He presses another kiss to her lips softly. A small discontented whine escapes Clara when he pulls away again. John chuckles, placing his hands against her cheeks gently.

"For not doing that earlier."


	9. Bad Wolf

Afternoon Lovely Readers!

I'm sorry this is late guys, I've just been feeling really sick lately which make writing hard.

Anyone who reviews this chapter will get an invisible basket of cookies! ;D

Enjoy!

* * *

**~Bad Wolf~**

The sun rose streaming warm light into Oswin's bedroom. Soft rays fell across the bed where Clara lays curled in a ball. She rolls over grinning into her pillow when the memory of last night resurfaces. It almost seems like a dream. She presses her fingertips to her lips imagining she can still feel John.

Clara knows getting involved with anyone is a terrible idea. She's trying to go home and once she does Clara will never see John again. The very thought hurts. This is all happening way too fast, yet all Clara can think about is kissing him again.

Last night John walked her to the end of the hall where Oswin's bedroom is located. He didn't dare go any farther in case someone saw them. If anyone found out the consequences would be severe to say the least. John is sworn to serve the Gray Court and stealing the Gray Prince's fiancée could get him killed. They're playing a dangerous game, one wrong move and everything will fall apart.

John promised to take Clara to see the oracle today. She resides in her own section of the castle cut off from the rest. People avoid her if at all possible; the idea of knowing the future scares them. Clara can't say she disagrees. But John said he met her a few times when she travels between the kingdoms and she's someone to trust. Like the witches, the oracle lives outside the governments. She can move freely. The fact that she chooses to reside in the Violet Kingdom has always been a point of contention.

Clara slips out from under the covers and heads towards the bathroom. She convinced the girls that she doesn't need help getting ready in the morning. Having them wait on her is ridiculous. Clara isn't any better than them. Also she's not an invalid.

She takes her time getting dressed. Washing her face and combing her hair. And telling herself this isn't because she's going to see John again. He has nothing to do with it. It takes several minutes of searching the closet full of more chiffon and silk than New York fashion week to find something that could even be considered casual.

It's a simple tunic style dress in deep burgundy. It comes with a pair of dark legging that have little brass buttons running up the side. Clara slips it on hoping the outfit won't get her in trouble. It was in the closet so…

Anxiety is building in her chest making Clara feel like a teenager on her first date all over again. Blasted hormones. They make Clara's mind go all sorts of places it shouldn't. She wants more than to kiss John. She wants to hear him whisper her name in the dark; she wants to know the feel of him. And it's more than that. Clara wants him in a way she's never experienced before. She wants to wake up next to him, to hear about his day, to curl up on the couch and watch a movie - or whatever it is they do here.

Clara bites her lip. It's an alarming revelation. She shouldn't get attached, she should avoid John completely. But Clara doesn't think she can. She's standing at a precipice and no matter what direction she takes Clara is going to fall. It's only a question of how hard.

John is waiting for her at the stone bench in the courtyard. It's a safe neutral location, there's nothing suspicions about going to the gardens. He jumps to his feet when he sees her ears turning red. She smiles and checks to see if anyone is nearby. Their section of the garden is empty and secluded by trees and hedges. Clara can feel the tension leave her body when she steps closer to John.

"Hey." she says simply. She doesn't know what else to say, words aren't enough to convey what Clara's thinking. It sounds silly and she knows it.

He chuckles, giving a crooked smile, "Hey."

Hesitantly Clara stands on her tiptoes to press a soft kiss to his lips. This is the exact opposite of avoiding attachment, but she can't find it in herself to care at the moment. Especially when John is kissing her back, arms encircling her waist. It's gentle and sweet, and Clara melts into it. It's also far too short. She leans back leaving her palms resting against his chest.

"I'd be a much better morning person if that's how I was normally greeted." John smiles. "Usually I wake up to Donna yelling."

Clara feels an unexpected twinge of jealousy. "Donna?" she asks hoping to sound nonchalant.

"Oh that's right you haven't met Donna." he says enthusiastically. "She's my partner, the other Gray Knight. Just like how Ten and Mickey are here."

Clara remembers the red-head she saw when she first arrived, that must be Donna since she was wearing the same uniform. Clara is momentarily distracted by something else John says, "Wait, someone's _name_ is Ten?"

"His actual name is David, but he's the tenth Violet Knight named David so everyone just calls him Ten."

"Okay..."

John continues, "I have to introduce you to Donna. She'll like you, I know."

The way he's speaking sooths some of her jealousy. John talks about Donna the way one does a sister or a best friend.

"Sounds like a plan." She agrees.

John just kind of stares at her for a moment which makes Clara lightheaded. Seeming to comeback to himself, he takes one of her hands in his own. Their fingers intertwine as if they were made for each other. Clara is starting to feel like she's fallen into some fluffy romance novel. No way this is real life. L - No she isn't going to call it that - _anything_ at first sight just doesn't happen. Not really.

"Rose is expecting us." he says leading out of the courtyard. "She's really interested in meeting you."

"The oracle has a name?"

John glances over at her with a raised eyebrow. "Why wouldn't she have a name?"

"How should I know?" Clara mutters, flushing slightly. "We don't exactly have oracles where I come from."

"Her name is Rose Tyler and … well I'll let her explain the rest."

Clara follows John through the corridors constantly looking over her shoulder to see if they are being watched. They pass a few servants and keep what they hope looks like a normal distance between them. Eventually they reach a wing that is completely disserted. It doesn't even look like it gets cleaned much. A light coating of dust rests on every surface.

John stops in front of a door with the head of a wolf painted on it. Clara shivers remembering the nightmares in the Lost Woods. He knocks four sharp raps and the door opens. Rusted hinges screech. There's no one on the other side.

"And now it's a Scooby-do episode." Clara mumbles liking this less and less every second.

"What?"

"Nothing."

"Don't worry it's fine." John says taking her hand again.

Inside is the strange mixture of somebody's attic and a botanical garden. Plush chairs, glass lamps, and flowers are literally everywhere. The room is set up similar to an apartment with separate spaces for the living area, bedroom, bath, and tiny kitchenette. The place was obviously designed so Rose wouldn't have to leave it much.

The whole back wall of the living room is comprised of thick paned windows. A door opens up to a lush brick walled garden. It gives the illusion of one continuous space. There's also absolutely nothing threatening about the place.

"Clara!" calls a female voice from the garden. "Please come in."

Winding her way through the furniture and flowers Clara spots a young woman. She's sitting beside a well with a table set out for tea. She has a wide smiling mouth, large expressive eyes, and honey colored hair. Dressed in a long, cream, empire waist shift with a gold circlet, inset with what appears to be moonstones, resting on her head the girl makes a beautiful - if surreal picture.

"You must be Rose?" Clara says taking the seat she offers.

"And you're the impossible girl." Rose nods, "I saw you coming."

Clara glances at John whose busy pouring the tea. "You did?"

"Yes. I'm sorry I wasn't there when you arrived. I had no idea when you'd be coming, just that you would. " she frowns, "Time gets a bit confusing sometimes."

Clara nods and takes a sip of the tea John hands her, because she doesn't know what else to do. Rose is very friendly, but she still doesn't know what's going on yet.

"Do you know how to get her home?" John asks.

"Not yet." Rose hedges, "It hasn't told me that."

"It?"

"The spirit of time: the Bad Wolf. I'm its vessel, just as my mother was before me and her mother before her. It may not be the best gig in the universe, but what are you going to do?"

Rose finishes her tea than gets to her feet. She leans against the wishing well, peering down into its depths. Clara thinks she looks tired and in more than just the physical since. How much has this gift cost her? Rose is alone and cut off from the world and by the sounds of it she had no choice it the matter.

Its something she can understand.

Rose looks up at Clara, "I can't promise anything, but we can try asking it."

"Alright." She gets up to stand beside Rose on instinct.

Rose closes her eyes and breathes in and out slowly. Clara and John don't move afraid of distracting her from whatever it is she's doing. The air starts to get warmer, thicker. Clara takes a step back towards John.

Rose opens her eyes and they are no longer her own. Yellow, bright like the sun, and glowing with power. The woman's face is blank and expressionless.

"I am the Bad Wolf."


	10. Tick Tock Goes The Clock

Hello fabulous friends!

First off sorry I didn't update last week I had a test. Stupid university getting in the way of everything :/ Anyways hope you all had an awesome, test free week!

As always I love reviews

Enjoy :D

* * *

**~Tick Tock Goes The Clock~**

Clara stumbles away from the being wearing Rose's face. The air around them is electrified. It is hard to draw breath. Clara falls back against John's chest. She can feel his hands holding her steady, warm on her shoulders. Clara doesn't want to admit she's terrified but glowing eyes are really fucking alarming.

"I am the Bad Wolf." Intones a layered voice. It sounds as through a thousand people are speaking at once. The words vibrate in the air.

Clara swallows her fear and forces her voice not to shake. "My name is Clara Oswald. Do you know who I am?"

The golden eyes regard her for a moment. "The Impossible Girl." The Bad Wolf smiles with Rose's mouth, sardonic and baiting. It doesn't fit her face.

"Why am I the Impossible Girl?" Clara steps out of John's arms. She is no damsel in distress. "Do you know how I got here?"

"I see everything. I know everything."

Clara takes that as a 'yes'. Of course it also isn't an answer. The Bad Wolf is toying with her. She can't let it distract her because Clara may never get another shot at this. And this is only adding more questions. Is she impossible for being in Shades or because she looks like Oswin? Clara won't leave until she gets answers.

"Why am I Impossible?" she repeats.

The Bad Wolf steps closer. Tears are running down Rose's cheeks. The woman's body is trembling. This is hurting her. The glowing heat is searing against Clara's skin. She holds her ground, frozen.

_"Tick Tock_

_Goes the clock_

_Two lives _

_And one face_

_Tick tock_

_Goes the clock_

_The book_

_Has truly raised_

_Tick tock _

_Goes the clock_

_The blood_

_Is all lies_

_Tick tock_

_Goes the clock_

_Your love_

_Shall surely die"_

Before Clara can even react to the freakish nursery rhyme the Bad Wolf reaches foreword. Rose's finger presses her temple. A shock courses through her veins. It is wild fire racing through a forest. And then Clara is falling, falling all over again.

She thinks she cries out when the images hit but Clara doesn't even know. She doesn't know if she's standing up or lying down, awake or asleep. Images, sensations, too fast and too many to comprehend flash before her eyes. Clara can't see or feel anything else. She is so many places at once.

She's running through a cool forest. She's screaming for help. Lips touch hers in the dark. There's a white gown in the mirror. She's turning an ancient page. John smiles at her. Lavender yells coming towards her. She's lying on a bed. Pulling open a box. A body holds her down. She runs down a hallway.

The flow of images crashes to a halt. Clara can see again. She gasps for breath, heart pounding. She's on her knees, palms pressed into the oak floor. John is saying something trying to get Clara to look at him. It's too much. Her mind can't focus after whatever the hell just happened. John touches her face forcing her wild eyes to center on him.

"Clara. You're alright, I've got you." He murmurs pulling her against him.

She presses her face into his neck, breathing in the scent of him. Fingers' clutching at his rough linen tunic Clara begins to calm down. The memory of the disjointed scenes still tugs at her mind but now she can start to push them back. John strokes her hair and wraps an arm around her. Slowly Clara draws away until she meets his timeless eyes. They look gray now.

"What was that?" she rasps.

"Prophecy." Rose is sitting slumped on the edge of the wishing well. She looks dead on her feet. Her eyes are red and watery, and ringed by dark circles. "Welcome to the mad house."

Clara takes in the woman's appearance wondering just how much being a vessel costs her. It's like Rose hasn't slept in days. How much does it hurt?

"Do you know what any of that meant?"

Rose shakes her head slowly. "No. Sometimes it's clear; like that you would come here. But other times it doesn't make sense until it happens. I don't think any of that had to do with how you got here or how to send you back, though. At least not specifically anyway."

"I was afraid of that. 'Your love shall surely die' I can't exactly sit around and wait for that, can I?" Clara remembers the feeling of being trapped and screaming. How is she supposed to just wait for those things to happen? She can't. She won't. But without context how are they possible to prevent?

Clara groans putting her head in her hands. A headache is rapidly building behind her left eye. Why the fuck is this happening to her?

"It gives us something to go on." John says encouragingly. "Besides the repeated use of the word 'clock', the prophecy also mentioned a 'book'. It's not much of a clue but it's better than nothing."

"He's right," agrees Rose, "It gives me something to look into."

Clara doesn't mention the visions unsure if they know or not. John helps her to her feet. She leans into him letting him put his arm around her waist. It seems so natural. It's hard to believe they hardly know each other, Clara feels like John has always been a part of her life. How can he do that?

Clara nods at Rose absently. The idea that she will be able to get anything out of the prophecy isn't one Clara has much hope in. It's too abstract. Like a freaking Dan Brown novel and she's no cryptographer. She wishes she'd never asked the Bad Wolf. Now all her future points to in disaster.

And death.

Clara tries not to glance at John when she thinks it. Love, it said love, and she doesn't love John. She barely knows him. It can't be referring to him. She has to force down the panic crawling its way up her throat. Clara won't go to pieces. She's done with being the fucking victim. It's time to get pissed. John is not going to die. No one is going to die.

Everyone jumps when the door to Rose's apartment creaks open behind them. John's dagger is in his hand before Clara can even blink. He moves in front of her and Rose automatically. Over his shoulder Clara can see a young black woman standing in the doorway. She's beautiful in a fitted, red leather corset and blue pants. Her thick, dark hair is pinned on top her head with gold bands.

"Good to see you too, Doctor." The woman raises an eyebrow at John sardonically.

"Doctor?" Clara asks.

John laughs softly and relaxes his poster tucking the knife back in his belt. "Clara Oswald meet Martha Jones leader of Order. Martha here likes to make fun of me."

"Nice to meet you." Martha has a pleasant smile. "John can't even handle a bandage properly; in fact I think he injured himself more the one time I saw him try to put one on. And he calls himself a Knight." She shakes her head in mock disapproval while walking over to Rose.

John rolls his eyes for Clara's benefit. He's obviously trying to lighten the mood and she's more than willing to take his way out. She needs time to process. Talking about anything else is a great option right now. Chatting with the leader of a coven of witches may not have been in her top ten pick, but Martha seems friendly enough. And John likes her which is reassuring.

"So this is the mystery girl?" Martha hands a small satchel to Rose. She gives Clara the once over with interest. Her kind smile takes down Clara's guard. Martha turns back to Rose. "Remember let the steep five minutes before drinking or it won't do anything."

"I know, I know. She's why I asked you to come." Rose says. She's starting to look at little better. At least now she can sit up straight. "Clara needs protection."

"Protection?" Clara glances between the two of them trying to figure out what they're planning. She wants to know what she's being protected from exactly and how many people know about her.

"Warding against magic." Martha slips a silver chain over her head and hands it to Clara. "This will prevent spells from taking possession of you."

A tiny pendent hangs at the end of the chain. It's a blue box with windows carved in wood. Clara doesn't think it looks very mystical, she was expecting chicken bones or some other crazy nonsense. Though she'd much rather wear wood around her neck.

"It's charmed." Martha answers her unspoken question. "As long as you wear it your safe."

Clara carefully puts on the necklace then tucks the pendent under her top. She certainly doesn't want the Queen to see it. If Viola found out she had this Clara's afraid to imagine what she would do.

"Thank you. All of you." She says hoping they see just how much this means to her. "For helping me."

A goofy grin lights up John's face at her words. Warmth blooms behind her ribs. She's falling fast, falling right into him. It only gets worse - or infinitely better- when he leans down to kiss her. It's nothing more than a quick press of his lips to hers. Even that's enough to make Clara melt.

Yes she's falling. Falling hard.


	11. Changes

Happy Halloween! *Starts singing Monster Mash*

Ok so first off I've joined National Novel Writing Month this year. This means I might update only every other week during November (also i'm gonna cry a lot) Sorry ahead of time.

On with the show! Enjoy ;D

* * *

**~Changes~**

As time passes life before Shades begins to feel like a distant memory. A dream slipping way in the light of the dawn. Like Clara's past is bleaching out the same way the colors do here. She sits at the vanity waiting for her reflection to give her an answer to a question she hasn't formed.

Clara instinctively grabs a letter opener when the bedroom door flies open. Amy sails in beaming, red hair flying, arms thrown out. Vastra and Jenny are right behind here carrying the morning tea service. They are obviously fighting to keep their faces straight. Clara drops the blade relaxing her posture hoping they didn't notice.

"Guess who kissed Rory Williams!" Amy says smugly, prancing around the room.

"Jenny?" Clara can't resist. She smirks at the look Amy shoots her.

"Well I certainly hope not." Vastra brushes Jenny's dark hair back from her temple tucking it behind her ear affectionately. Clara was right about them. According to Amy they've been together since the dawn of time.

"I was starting to think he was gay." Amy explains, flopping onto the bed dramatically. She nearly disappears into the coverlet. "I'd never seen him take an interest in a girl once! But it was because he likes me and didn't think I was interested!"

"I take it you made your interest know." Clara leaves her pointless vigil at the mirror and jumps on the mattress next to her friend.

She curls onto her side watching the side of the girl's face. Amy turns red smiling at the sheer canopy above them. Clara can't help grinning too, she loves seeing her friend this happy. Vastra and Jenny snuggle into the small sofa beside the stone fireplace. It's a warm, quiet moment for all of them.

"Once I wheedled it out of him, I might have attacked him." Amy starts giggling uncontrollably covering her face with her palms. A flush spreads down her neck. "Afterwards I punched him on the shoulder, said 'see you later', and skipped off."

Jenny snorts. Clara can picture it now. Hurricane Amy blowing through like the holy terror she is and knocking out poor, hapless Rory in her path. The guy is doomed.

"You're terrible!" Clara laughs. "You really just left him standing there?"

"Frozen like a Nightmare in sun light."

Fate or whatever deity sent the girls to her has Clara eternal gratitude. They never fail to make her day better. Honestly, there's no way she could get through this without them. And it's strange because Clara feels like she's known them forever. As if this morning routine of warm tea and laughter has always been part of her life. It's so easy with them. She fits right in with loud and boisterous Amy, calm, assertive Vastra, and Jenny the glue which holds them all together.

They know about Clara and John too. She couldn't keep something like that from them. On some core level Clara knows she can trust the girls implicitly. They will never betray their secrets. Also they've been helping her meet with John without attracting attention.

Vastra wasted no time in impressing upon her the danger she's putting John in by continuing a relationship with him. As if the thought doesn't already scare her enough. He doesn't have the luxury of the protection of royal blood, assumed or not. At the same time all three of them want Clara to be happy. 'While you can' was how Vastra phrased it.

Everyone knows there's an expiration date on all of this. The date of the wedding was moved up by the Queen. Officially because it's what's best for both kingdoms to relieve the tensions through royal union as soon as possible. Clara knows it's because this gives her less time to find a way of the deal. Something the Queen will never let happen. And now she has less than a month.

* * *

Today they meet in the library. John is waiting for her at a table in the furthest, most dust ridden section of the stacks. The names of the books are faded and forgotten, their covers untouched for decades. The musty, sweet air is heavy and intoxicating. No one will find them here.

John stands to pull her into his arms. He holds her gently running his fingers through her loose hair. Clara sighs, breathing him in. She could stay like this forever. Just them in their own world where they're safe. Then Clara can pretend they have more time. She can forget that she has to go on the horrendous facsimile of a public date with the Prince tonight.

John pulls away only enough that he can press a little kiss to the tip of her nose. "You look beautiful." He tells her while his ears turn red.

He's so confident and awkward at the same time. Clara wonders how he manages being such an oxymoron. One minute he's the knight in shining armor and the next he's the shy guy in math class. It's kind of adorable.

Clara rolls her eyes. "You always say that."

She kisses him, pulling his bottom lip between her own. John's hand finds the back of her neck, fingertips trailing lightly over the exposed skin. It's languid and unhurried. Tongues running against each other, teeth teasing sensitive skin.

And it's not enough.

They see each other nearly every day when they aren't playing their respected rolls in the palace. They kiss, they hold hands, they talk. Nothing more. It's too fast, too risky. Clara feels this pull every time they touch, but she ignores it, she pushes it down. She's happy simply being with John. The want. The hunger. The need. It's there burning in the back ground, but it's beyond the physical.

Clara wants to show John what she feels for him in ways that words can't. Because looking into his eyes now, feeling his smile against her skin, Clara knows. It's crazy, and improbable, and poorly timed. And that changes nothing.

She's in love with John.

Maybe he can sense the change in her. Maybe he's thinking the same things. Whatever the reason, John presses her back against the stone wall. Clara makes a soft sound when he rolls his hips against hers. Fire is coursing through her veins spurred on by the quickening of her heartbeat. His mouth sucks at the pulse point on her throat. It's delirious.

Clara moves against him desperate for friction. Taking his jaw in her hand she brings John's mouth back to hers. Their lips don't meet instead the pause breathing each other in, eyes locked. The pure want in his eyes nearly makes Clara come undone.

"Clara." He murmurs, voice wrecked, before closing the space between them.

She moans into his mouth when John rolls against her harder. This needs to stop but she doesn't want to, she doesn't care. Clara loves the feel of his hands on her waste, the texture of his skin under his shirt.

"I want you." It's the most daring and most vulnerable thing she's ever said.

John rests his forehead against Clara's softly. "If I could have anything in the universe I would chose you. I would take you away from here and show you the stars. I'd never let you go."

A single tear escapes her eyes when Clara whispers, "I know."

They sink to the floor where John pulls her into his lap. He wraps his arms around her and she listens to the sound of his heartbeat. Holding each other they pretend this is forever.

* * *

Warning: Rough Waters Ahead...


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